Walking around my neighborhood last week, I noticed some things about the trees. This is not an unusual exercise for me, as I have walked this loop hundreds, if not a thousand, times, stopping to examine every element of nature along the way. It has been a constant in my life over the past twelve years, and I would even say has saved me on several occasions.

A moving meditation. Either with my favorite music or without. Depends on the intention.

Walking this walk both speaks to me and heals me. Soothes me and drives me. Emotions quelled. Plans made. Energy built. It has inspired me at every level.

Sometimes, the birds stop me. Or the exotic lowcountry “scoon,” a cross between a squirrel and a raccoon. It’s a big grey squirrel that wears a black mask. And they’re not very scared of people. Or maybe it’s the trees, or the wind, or the sun, or the flowers, or the clouds, or the way the landscape has changed over the years. Maturing and transforming. Hopefully, I have followed the lead.

Last week it was the spanish moss hanging from the trees.

This moss is one of the most beautiful, haunting aspects to our special part of the world. It hangs and sways with mystery and history. Like each strand has an intricate story to tell about the past and could tell us many secrets about the present, if we would only take the time to listen.

When I stopped to let my beloved Jack sniff the base of the tree (he’s my precious pup), the moss dangled over my head, letting go of these questions which drifted down into my awareness:

What are you allowing to hang from you?

Is it decoration or is it feeding you?

Did you invite it, attract it, or did it find its way to you and you never bothered to let it go?

Is it serving you?

Are you a good host? What are you a host for? Should you host this at all?

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